Papa Snape
by tarnished silver things
Summary: When Severus' Grandmother sets him up on a date with her best friends' granddaughter, Anne Blythe, a Muggle social worker, he has no idea how far reaching the concequences will be. T for paranoia
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape sighed as his grandmother prattled away about something or other. He loved the woman dearly, he did, but she was such a chatterbox!

"Severus!"

His head snapped up. "Yes, Grandmother? I apologise, I wasn't paing attention."

Camellia Snape gave a snort. "_That_ much is obvious, my dear boy. Now, I was _saying_, child, that the reason you don't find a nice girl is that, I believe the words you used were, 'no right-minded witch will have me.' Am I correct?"

Severus repressed a groan. "_Yes,_ Grandmother. There isn't a witch in the world that would fall for the infamous Severus Snape, so why must you continually badger me about it?" He was starting to regret staying up so late brewing; he had a pounding headache and could barely follow anything the old woman said.

He did, however, catch it when Camellia clapped like a schoolgirl and said happily, "Oh, well then that's all right then, Severus Darling!"

"What?" She badgered after him for years to settle down and have a family and now she . . . Was alright that he couldn't find a witch in the world willing to have anything to do with him? Women were stranger than he thought . . .

"I've been talking to Diana Blythe-" Oh, dear God, what were they going to do to him _this_ time? "-and her granddaughter Anne has _exactly_ the same problem." Maybe there was some worth to his grandmother's doddery old friend after all. "Anne's a good girl, but she's no luck with men. She's too old-fashioned, apparently, and most of them are intimidated by her, as she's clever enough to give you a run for your money."

Severus snorted. "Any idiotic male that will be intimidated by a woman challenging what few brain cells his thick head has the capacity to hold doesn't deserve the air he breathes."

His grandmother nodded. "You're right about that Sev Dear, which is why we've set the two of you up on a date! Anne's a sweet girl, you'll just love her!" Camellia pointedly ignored her grandson's spluttering. "-And the date is in . . . ten minutes, so wash up, sweetheart!"

How did he get into these messes?

END PROLOGUE.

Whatcha think? Any good?


	2. Chapter 2

Severus glowered at his grandmother as she prattled at her friend. He spared a glance toward Anne. The girl saw him look at her, and mouthed 'They're _both_ batty' to him. He snorted and nodded.

"What was that, Sevvie Dear?"

"Nothing, Gran," Severus all but snarled, repressing a groan at Camellia's fondness for pet names.

Anne hid a giggle behind her hand and stood up. "Well, Gran, and Mrs. Prince, it was very nice speaking with you, but I suppose you want Severus and I gone now: See you in an hour or two."

Before the dark haired Potions Master could say anything, he was rather rudely thrown out by two old ladies. Turning to Anne, he snapped, "Is there a reason that you did that?"

Anne cocked her hip and said coolly, "Well, if _you'd_ rather stay in a stuffy, perfumed room with two old women prattling away about us getting married - and if your gran is at all like mine, that'll happen within the hour - you're welcome to go back in. I, however, am hungry, and there's a pizzeria across the way. You can come or not, _I_ didn't ask for a blind date anymore than _you_ did." And with that, the woman turned on her heel and walked away with her nose in the air angrily.

"Of _course_ she'd be a redhead, right down to the very temper . . . ." Severus muttered, before striding forward to catch up to the orange-haired girl. He didn't think she'd be any worse than one of the Weasley Clan, though.

Once they reached Stone Pizza, and Anne had ordered for them - Quattro Formaggi for Anne, Diavola for him - they sat and talked a bit. Anne, it turned out, was a social worker, and loved her job as much as he did his potions - though he dislike incompetent brats. When she asked what he did for a living, he told her he taught Chemesrty at a school for the gifted in Scotland.

"Why don't you like children? You teach chemistry, why do so if you don't like children?"

"It is not the _children_ I dislike, per se, it is their arrogance. Many of them are high and mighty and full of themselves, and refuse to listen, then try to blame others when their work blows up in their face. If I could, I would choose to only teach those that actually work hard and pass their exams, but it is the Headmaster's policy to give everyone another chance. Thankfully, after their A-levels, most of my students I can bear to teach. That the older students no longer cringe in terror when I walk past _also_ helps."

Anne shook her head. "Well, why are they afraid of you? What's your teaching style? Why not ask the Headmaster if you can get an assistant or something?"

"Miss Blythe, I was unaware that you were a psychologist. I mist have misheard you when you said you were a social worker.,"

Anne rolled her eyes. "They go hand in hand rather often, actually, but fine. Let's eat our pizza and then we can go to a movie while we hide from out grandmothers."

Severus snorted and took a bite of the Diavola. Hmm, was that basil? It was delicious. Maybe he should ask the House Elves to make him some . . .

They went to see the only movie that still had tickets available - Return to Oz. It was . . . Interesting, to say the least. Not exactly something Severus would ever want to watch again, but decent nonetheless. It didn't quite match the books from when he read them as a child, however.

Finally, it was getting dark, and they were walking back to his grandmother's to see what torture would await them. Anne was prattling away about a case - ranting about thrice-damned child abusers - something about an orphaned child, whose Uncle had been caught beating him half to death, on the front lawn, for pity's sake 'for freakishness,' but somehow the man was able to evade arrest for the time being.

Severus held open the door for her as they walked inside. Let her be accosted by twittering old women, he rather liked what remnants he had of his sanity. Once Anne and her grandmother had left, jhe could go back to Spinners End and get some well-deserved _sleep,_ never to see a Blythe again.

Unfortunately, it was rare to get everything that you wanted.

He had another date with Anne. Bloody old women. They were worse than Albus . . . Hopefully the two would not develp a maddening fondness for sweets.

As they walked back to Diana Blythe's house after Plot of the Granny's Two, as Anne jokingly called it, Anne turned to him and asked, "Why don't we make them happy and let them think their manipulations are working...? Give me a hand with this home visit. If the man turns violent when confronted I could use a witness anyway. That child must be removed from such a household at any rate and we've foster home waiting. It's only just down the road a bit."

She dug in her purse for the address. "The child himself is in hospital with several broken bones and he's yet to regain conciousness or speak, but the aunt and uncle need to be served with a removal notice and there is another child there to be taken out."

He stared at her and sighed, nodding. "Why not. If it will get those interferring busybodies off our backs for a while. What's the address?"

Three little words, 'What's the address.'

And they packed quite the punch, as Severus soon found out.


	3. Chapter 3

_James smiled at his beautiful wife. "That's great news, Lils!" And it was; he was going to be a father! But then a small, nagging thought came to him . . . '_What of it doesn't look like me? What if it's a girl?_' James personally wouldn't mind having a little girl, but . . . He had been raised a Pureblood, the sole heir to an Ancient and Noble House: An exceptionally open minded Pureblood, true, but still a Pure-blood. His first born _had_ to be a boy, and one that looked like him . . . _

_Of course, there was no way, bar potions to guarantee that any particular child would be a certain gender and since Lily _was_ a Potions Adept, she'd catch him at it if he tried to use one. However, there was an old spell, one that had been a part of Pureblood society for aeons, that ensured a child would look like the father . . . True, it was a glamour of sorts, and therefore not _exactly_ permanent, but it was practically indestructible. Only Old Magick could break it; things like sacrificial magic and wards, or phoenix rituals, things that were dead and forgotten, and even if by some insane joke of Fate that _did_ happen, it would at least leave the child more sensitive to magic,increase their own dramatically and make them become magically functional at a much, much younger age. To James, that was a good thing, since the more magically powerful the child, was the better. His mind made up, James nodded to himself and made his way to the library, kissing his wife on the cheek as he left. He entered a portion of it that only someone born to the Potter line could access and reached up to grasp 'Spells of Inheritance and Succession'. _

_James smoothed down Lily's hair, having tossed a light sleeping spell on her from the door, then cast the Inheritance spell on his wife._ "A parvulus per abbas visio," _he whispered. Literally, _'A child with the father's face._' and it would make sure that any child Lily bore would look like the father. Smiling softly, James put his wand on his bedside table, and slid into the bed next to her, content. He could not know that 18 months after the birth of his son, during a night of horror, his wife would drain every ounce of magic from every object and ward for nearly three miles in all directions to place a Sacrificial Blood Ward on their son in a frantic bid to save her child's life. Old Magick. Nor would he, in the land of the living at least, see her shock as their son's face changed before her eyes, just before she died._

_**Fade to Black**_

Anne bit her lip. "It's number Four . . . P-something Drive. It's only a few streets away, though. I know where it is, come on."

Severus rolled his eyes, but complied, following her through the cookie-cutter rows of houses, through an alley, and onto a street called Privet Drive. The street name was vaguely familiar to him, though he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

"This one's it!"

"Well, considering that up ahead there is only forest, I would be inclined to believe that this is the correct street."

Anne just snorted at him and rolled her eyes, walking forward to the house with a big brass 4 on the door. Severus followed her, only to be stopped by . . . a ward? What the bleeding blue blazes was a ward doing on a Muggle house? And the thing was hardly even _there_ . . . Probably a Wizarding family used to live there, and were lazy in lifting thier wards. Snarling, Severus brushed it aside and made to catch up to Anne, who was already knocking on the door.

Considering that it was barely seven in the evening, Severus was unpleasantly surprised that the male of the house, a large, beefy, pink-faced walrus of a man, was in entirely too small boxers and an under-shirt. Severus rolled his eyes as the man began blustering at them, and didn't bother repressing his smirk when Anne handed him the folder that was the notice of removal for the other boy in the house. The walrus man was turning puce, and yet the colour was almost completely drained from his face . . . it looked like a potion gone wrong. Or a poison gone right . . . Bah.

"A Child Welfare Technician will be by no later than 10 AM to remove your son from the household, Mr. Dursley. Good-bye."

Severus full-out smiled at the man, which caused a curious squelching sound as his boxers were slowly stained yellow. Severus raised an eyebrow and turned away from the man. "Where do we go now, Miss Blythe?"

"_Anne_, or I'll snatch you _bald_. And I need to check up on Harry, so the hospital. Which means walking all the way back to Gran's . . . Damn it. Hey, is there some sort of magical way for you to just have us pop over there? Without being accosted by old women?"

Severus slowed his gait and looked at Anne shrewdly. "Some sort of . . . _what?_"

Anne gave him a 'are you truly that stupid' Look. "You're a wizard right? Well, it there a way to just pop from place to place?" Seeing that Severus was still staring at her incredulously, she huffed loudly and threw her arms up. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Sev! Your family knows you're a wizard-ma-callit, and old ladies' gossip, and little girls listen at keyholes because they know that they're not to do so. I've known that one mister Severus Snape is a wizard since I was seven. Now is there a way to get us there or not?"

Severus stopped his _excellent_ imitation of a land-stranded catfish and nodded slowly. " . . . It's called _apparition_ . . . " If she was a squib, or a witch, or even a _spy_ of some sort, then he could Obliviate her so long as he kept his magic at the ready. He'd have to play this by ear, though, until he was certain of anything.

He grabbed her close to him and spun on his heel, and in a moment, they appeared a block or so away from the hospital. They got permission to see the boy, and made their way to room 6-13U.

Inside there was a bed, various Muggle medical things, and a small boy, maybe three or so at the most, hooked up to quite a few of them. There was a light on, and he was sleeping.

"Hullo, Harry," Anne whispered, stroking the child's hair, obviously not caring that he probably couldn't hear her. "I hope you wake up soon. Your relatives, the Dursleys, they aren't going to be around you any more. You never have to go back to them again, nor shall you have anything to do with them. Isn't that great? I hope you heal quickly, Harry. I suppose I should go now, though; my friend Severus and I have to get back to my Granny's. See you soon, love."

She got up and smiled at Severus. "I hope he wakes up. He's a lot better though, now. His bones are mostly healed, at least."

As they made their way to the door, there was a soft groan behind them.

"Mum . . . Dad?" Came the small child's voice. Severus turned to see the boy blinking blearily at them with . . .

Lily's eyes.

God damn it, this was _Potter_. Anne shook her head at the boy, Severus still coming to terms with the fact that this child was the Boy Who Lived, the only child of his best friend and his worst enemy.

"No, Harry love, we're not your parents. I'm Anne Blythe, and this is my friend Severus Snape. I'm your Social Worker, and Severus and I came to check on you. You've been here quite a while, you know. The Dursleys, your relatives, they're not going to be your guardians any more. Not yours or Dudley's. You'll go to an orphanage, or be adopted, or there's foster care. Now, I'm going to get the nurse, tell her you're up, okay? Maybe you can talk to Severus for a bit," Anne told the child softly, trying to keep from overwhelming the poor child, but still tell him what was going on.

Potter nodded slowly, and turned to Severus as Anne closed the door. "Are . . . are you sure you're not my dad? 'cause I know my dad had black hair . . . an' you do too, an' . . . nev'mind, sir, I'm sorry . . . "

Severus sighed. As much as he positively _loathed_ anything Potter, he wasn't going to let the brat beat himself up over wanting a real, a proper family. He couldn't count how many times he'd wished for the same as a child. "No, child, I'm not your father. You are Harry Potter , correct?"

The boy nodded, slowly.

"Your Aunt . . . her name was Petunia?"

Nod.

"I grew up with her and her sister, Lily. Your Mother. Would you like me to tell you about her?" Hopefully hearing about Lily would influence the child to be more like the mother than that arrogant arse of a father. He eased himself onto the edge of the narrow bed and began to explain.

This, it seemed, was shaping up to be a _long_ night. _Good-bye sleep . . . ._

As Severus talked, the boy inched closer and closer to the man. By the time Anne got back with both the doctor and two nurses, since the man had been making rounds when she'd arrived at the duty station, the tiny boy was half curled 'round the quietly speaking man. He paused, looking up at Anne, "Perhaps . . . Anne, would it be possible for me to gain custody of Harry? Lily was a friend of mine, and I feel I owe it to her, seeing what has happened. His mother was a very close friend and I won't leave her son at the state's mercy when I can take care of him." He snorted, ruefully, thinking 'B_esides, if I do not Pomphrey will kill me if Dumbledore doesn't. And that's only if my grandmother doesn't beat them to it._'

Anne smiled and nodded, "Now why did I know you'd volunteer something like that, eh?" She asked softly to no-one in particular. Not a one said anything in answer.

Severus continued telling The Potter Brat..._Harry_... about his Aunt Petunia's failed attempt at teaching the swimming instructor how to swim rather than actually pay attention to the swimming lesson. Soon, though, he and Anne had to leave. Though, Severus found himself . . . reluctant . . . leave the boy. But this was Potter's child. The only saving grace in him was Lily as his mother.

Besides, the boy should never have gone to the Dursley's. Lily had told him, just days after the child was born, that she and James had agreed that if they died, the brat would go to Black, if he was unable to care for Potter's child, then to the Longbottoms, then to him, Severus, then to Selene Malfoy, now Lovegood. How the child got to the Dursley's, Severus didn't know. Though it smelled rather like Albus' work. Should he tell the old man about it? There was the Prophecy, after all . . . No, it didn't really concern Albus. Not really. Maybe he should let the boy meet Selene. Didn't she have a daughter, after all? He smoothed down Lily's child's hair, and got up, moving toward Anne.

He did not want to like the brat. He did not even like him. He only offered to care for him because of Lily.

And _only_ for her.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Young Mister Harry J. Potter could honestly not believe his good luck; for, truly, that must be what it had been. What it _was._ His relatives . . . the Dursley's weren't his guardians (apparently that was a grown-up word for people in charge of kids) any more; they had fled the country with Dudley only a few days ago. Though he supposed it might be a little bit mean, Harry couldn't help but hope that they'd fall into a whirlpool or something if they crossed the Channel. Or would they go across the . . . what did the grown ups call it when they thought he was sleeping? The pond? His kindergarten teacher had said that it was the Atlantic Ocean and that it was a whole lot bigger than a pond. She'd shown his class a map, even.

But back to his amazing good luck.

He had a new daddy, who had a wife. Well, Harry thought the pretty orange-haired social worker lady was his wife. He wasn't sure. So, he decided that she was. His new daddy knew his real mummy when he was little and told him stories about her. He smelled sort of like Aunt Petunia's spices. The nice kind, not the kind she stuffed in his mouth when he was bad. That kind burned his mouth lots. But only sort of, because there were other smells too. Mostly what the orangey headed lady called '_sandalwood_' and she'd agreed with Harry that it was a very nice smell. Even though he didn't think sandals made wood. Or maybe there were sandal trees?

His new daddy didn't yell at him or call him bad names or hit him and he had a funny little creature he had told Harry was a 'house elf' that did all the chores that the Dursleys had forced Harry to do. The elf had been shocked and horrified one morning when she'd caught Harry making breakfast and upset that so small a child was so good at it. Harry didn't really understand that, but he sort of understood the cuddles the creature had then descended on him with. Harry liked cuddles, but the wailing part had made his ears ring for a while. Daddy had come quickly, got the lady elf calmed down enough to explain and had sorted everything. Then Daddy had told Harry that sort of cooking was mostly for house elves to do and if he really liked to make things, he'd teach him to make potions, instead.

Daddy's promises weren't like the Dursley's promises...because his daddy actually _kept_ them.

Harry was due to go to what daddy called his 'Winter Home' with daddy, whom he was _supposed_ to call Severus though he forgot a lot and called him daddy anyway, today and the excitement made him bounce all over the place.

He grinned at the window in front of him, watching the birds fly. He wondered if his new daddy could fly, like the giant in his motorcycle dream.

"_Ah-hem_."

Harry started and squawked, finding Miss Anne in the doorway, smiling at him. "Hey, kidlet, time to go meet Severus. You ready?"

Harry nodded his head vehemently. "**Yeah! **_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"_

Anne's grin got wider, and she hugged Harry tight, before leading him out of the room to see Severus.

**Boop.**

Severus smiled a little (And only a little, mind you for one _must_ remember one's dignity, after all) at the boy in the back seat of the car. Harry's green eyes were bright with excitement. "We'll be getting to Spinner's End in a few moments, Harry. Do you believe you can wait that long?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically and grinned wide enough to crack his face.

Harry Potter was young enough that it was allowable for him to behave like a silly child, but fortunately, he _was_ very much like Lily, thank Merlin.

Severus turned his eyes back to his driving and let his thoughts roam some. He had told Albus about Harry _only_ after he had enjoyed watching the old man run frantically about like a chicken without it's head, worried because the Boy-Who-Lived was gone. Nearly a month after the boy had been taken from his relatives 'care.' He'd watched the old wizard rave in fury at the discovery of what sort of treatment had been give to Harry. He had investigated at the hospital's emergency ward and the expression on Dumbledore's face when he had viewed the staff's frantic bid to save the boy's life boded ill for Vernon and Family should he ever discover their location. During that month, of course, Severus had made sure that Harry was placed securely under Poppy's expert care. His weight had been brought up to something nearer to normal for his age and the bruises were all that remained of the ordeal. If his potions under her dosage had left visible bruises it was because all the healing properties had been diverted to more serious injuries instead. The bruises would fade in time now that he would no longer be collecting new ones.

The look on his mentor's face was both irritated and pleased, when the old man found out that Severus had fully adopted Harry Potter...and had used a method that could _not_ be reversed by anyone.

Severus was Slytherin enough had made damned sure to bring along a camera with which he had taken several pictures before Albus had recovered from the surprise.

Maybe, just maybe, there really was a snarky, snarly, insane, sarcastic bastard of a god out there, looking out for one Severus Snape. Severus vaguely decided to call this god Roy . . .

They finally reached Spinner's end, which due to the arrival of a pair of house elves, was looking the best it had in Severus' memory. Instead of mouldy wood panelling, there was nice dark green stonework, the roof was fixed, the interior no longer in a state of decay . . . a much more suitable environment in which to raise Lily's child. Apparently, word had travelled quickly through the House Elf grapevine that a bachelor male was going to be attempting to raise a toddler by himself and the elves themselves had decided that was a bad idea. Thus, he now had elves. Young Harry took one look at them late one night at the hospital where he had called them to introduce themselves to the 'Young' master and had named them Flopsy and Mopsy, after two of the 'good' bunnies in the story Anne had just read to him that afternoon, _Peter Rabbit._

Harry. Thankfully, loved it, and ran to the cherry tree in the front yard and started hugging it. "Histh name isth Pin-key!" The dark-haired child yelled, rushing back over to Severus. Seeing the adults' stern eyebrow raised, Harry shrank back a little.

"It's alright, Harry." Severus reassured the little boy. He had found himself having to modify his behaviour so as not to scare the daylights out of his charge. Severus shook his head, realizing he would have to tread carefully for the boy would not be hard to scare at least at first. "S'rry," The boy murmured.

"Nothing to be sorry about, lad. I'm glad you like our tree and there are others in the back garden and some of the are suitable for young boys to learn to climb in. Would you like to see your room?"

"A real room, not a cupboard?" Harry asked excitedly.

And once again as he had several times after meeting Harry, the child with nothing more than an innocent question, Severus found himself wanting to kill off two more muggles, _just_ two, mind.

"A real room, real furniture, real covers, real toys and your very own bed." He confirmed.

"Cool!"

Sev winced at the high pitched, high volume squeal, but for all of that, it was getting damned hard to distance himself emotionally from a child who was always so damned pleased at every little thing he did for the boy. It was also nearly impossible to remain standoffish with a youngster who was always so damned happy to see him. One sight of himself sent pure joy through Harry that was as obvious as a bolt of lightening. However, the slightest little frown or scowl set the boy cringing, which while understandable with his history, made Sev want to cringe. And Severus Snape had a feeling that correcting this would be harder than he had thought.

There were other problems, too, since Harry wasn't much more than a baby, indeed, the muggles had even left potty training off, preferring to have an excuse to beat the boy, so only now was the child in a muggle invention that Anne called _training pants_. The 'pants' were disposable and were the step between nappies and using a toilet.

And on top of everything else, despite the fact he was mostly healed, lingering bruises were yellowing on his limbs and for some reason Severus refused to acknowledge, this made the heart he denied he had at all ache. Even his own bastard of a sire had waited until he was seven or eight before the beatings had begun: This was inexcusable.

**Boop.**

Severus straightened Harry's collar as they boarded the Express. It was September First, and Harry had been living with Severus for a few months now, and Severus had wanted the child to be able to see the students before getting into mischief at Hogwarts. Because Merlin knew the boy would cause some form of accident just by being there. Bloody Potter genes . . .

He would have to make sure not to let the child near the snack cart.

Yes, it was a definite good thing that Lily's son shared her favourite snack. Apples were a gift from Magic itself, in Severus' opinion. He had known he'd have to soften his way with some of the other teachers, so he'd come armed with 'distractions'...he refused to call them bribes or worse, gifts.

For Minerva he had several bolts of satin from his grandmother's stores, For Sprout (and frankly for himself) enough Apple saplings to create several orchards, something he considered Hogwarts to have needed for a long time. Each of his colleagues

"Papa?" Harry asked, bouncing up and down, clutching the straps to his knapsack tightly. "Can we ge' on the train now? Plea-ea-ea-ease? Want t' ride it!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "And why should we, Harry? I didn't know that you were eleven already."

Harry looked shocked. "NO! I'm _almos_' FOUR! Silly! Papa y'said papa a teacher at th' school, Papa! So le's go, go, go, go, go, go, _go_!"

"You will be the end of me one day, child."Severus sighed and lifted the still underweight child gently into his arms, settling Harry on one hip. "Ready? Hold tight while we get up the stairs, it's rather steep and a narrow." He sighed and finally decided to let the child call him as he would, since with the adoption final, he _was_ Harry's Papa, legally, anyway.

"'Kay!"

**Boop.**

Weasley's were _not _very nice, in little Harry's opinion. 'Specially not ones named Bill. That one was real mean. He called his Papa a snarly git and when Harry came in called him a midget! He was a big boy! Almost five years old! And then the other red haired boy laughed when he told them so. Mean old Weasley's . . .

He bumped into someone. Looking up from his new position on the floor, Harry saw a tall girl with tan skin and dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail at the top of her head.

"Hey," she said in surprise, wrinkling her nose a little. "Err . . . you do know that the train has left the station, yeah? I mean . . . where's your family, kid?"

Harry swallowed. "My Papa's in the firs' car. Um . . . who're you?"

The dark haired girl smiled. "I'm Gwenog Jones, Hufflepuff Beater," she stated proudly. "Now, your Da, he;s one of the Professors, yeah? Ye wan' me to take you to him?"

Harry nodded slowly, and the girl scooped him up, carrying him to the front carriage, completely ignoring how the little boy tensed up.

They got to the carriage quickly, and Gwenog finally set Harry down to ask which Professor his papa was.

"My Papa teaches Poti . . . Poshuh . . . POE-tee-UNS," Harry told her, concentrating very hard on saying his Papa's subject properly. "His name is Snape."

Gwenog gaped at Harry, who looked at her, confused. What had he done wrong?

Then the girl shook her head, her light brown eyes bright, like she was laughing. "Well, let's getcha to your Da now, eh?"

She peeked into a few compartments and finally found Harry's Papa talking with an old lady in dark red robes. Harry wondered what subject the lady taught, but was interrupted from his thoughts by his Papa.

"Miss Jones, what are you doing in the teachers carriage?"

"Your li'l boy was in the back of the train, Professor, I thought you might want him back, so yeh wouldn' worry."

Harry's Papa nodded. "Thank you Miss Jones, ten points to Hufflepuff."

"Not that I'm not thankful for them, sir, but they aren' neccisary. Thanks though. I'll let ye be for now, see you in class."

After the nice Gwenog left, the old lady witch started laughing. "Severus, I think it is safe to say that your reputation of being a dungeon bat is fairly far down the drain. I will assume that this is young Harry?"

Before his Papa could talk, Harry jumped in. "Yep! And you shouldn't assume, ma'am, it makes an ass outta 'u' and 'me'."

"Harry!"

Harry turned wide eyed to his Papa. "Wha's wrong, Papa?"

"Where did you hear that phrase, young man?"

Suddenly afraid, Harry cowered and said meekly, "G'andma . . . "

The old lady started laughing again when Papa buried his head in his hand and muttered about evil old women.

"It's not funny, Minerva," he scowled halfheartedly.

"Yes it is," Harry supplied helpfully.

Why was Miss Minerva laughing more now?


	5. Chapter 5

Harry wasn't quite sure that he liked trains, especially eating on them. His tummy felt bad. It was kind of nice, though, when Granna (That's what Miss Minerva asked him to call her and Papa said it was okay) held him and let him nap with his head on her side while his Papa went to the luggage car to see if he'd packed a stomach soothing potion. She hummed a tune that made him feel a little better while she read her book.

Harry's Papa came back to find Minerva nodding off and Harry curled up beside her, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he tried to read 'Elemental Transfiguration' from the Scot's side. Well, if the boy wanted to read something so far beyond his years, Severus wouldn't stop him. He did, however, clear his throat, causing Harry and Minerva to both jump n surprise, and Harry to clutch the book so as to keep his page. Severus raised an eyebrow. "I have the stomach soother," he drawled. "Come here, Harry. I won't have you getting sick on the train."

"Yes, Papa," Harry said happily. Severus snorted mentally. _Only_ Harry would ever like the taste of potions . . .

Minerva looked around. "Where is my . . . Harry, why do you have my book?"

"Because I was reading it . . . " Harry ducked his head down when Minerva raised her eyebrows.

"You're reading it, are you? Surely you don't understand a word of it? That is a book for Transfiguration _Masters_, Harry. Why, even James, your birth father would have had trouble with that before he died."

Harry blinked innocently up at the woman. "But it's so intra-interrra-IN-terrrr-ES-thing, Granna! Please can I keep reading it? It's fun, and Papa said I'm s'pposed to practice my reading . . ."

And now Minerva found out just why Severus complained about the boy's begging face.

Minerva smiled. "Well, I suppose that it couldn't hurt any." She turned to Severus. "You have a bright lad here, Severus, _do_ let him learn more than just potions."

Severus scowled, but gave a sharp, jerky nod.

**Bloop**

Harry watched in awe as a _HAT_ sang a song about the four Houses of Hogwarts. He was still thinking about it as the bigger kids got Sorted. He wondered what House he would be in? Would he be in a really good one? The Hat said they were all good, but his Papa didn't like Gryffindors, so they must be real icky, and those Weasley boys were Gryffindors, so they must be real bad, to let meanies like that in. Hufflepuffs sounded nice, though . . . But his Papa _was_ a Slytherin, so shouldn't he be one too? Maybe a Ravenclaw, so that _he'd_ get really smart . . . and besides Granna had told him on the train that Papa's mama had been a Ravenclaw so that was okay wasn't it?

Finally, about halfway through the Feast, Harry just couldn't take it any more and glanced at his Papa. He was talking to Granna Minnie, and wasn't looking toward Harry at all. The dark haired child quickly slipped under the table and dashed to the singing Hat. Not very many people noticed him until he sat on the stool.

'Well aren't you a bit young to be Sorted, Mr. Potter? Bee in your bonnet, child?'

"I'm a big boy!" Harry whispered. "Please tell me what House I get? Pretty please with chocolate covered ants on top?"

'Chocolate covered ants? _What_ are they feeding you children these days?' The Hat asked. Harry thought that it sounded like it was smirking.

"They're really raisins, but don't tell Daddy's wife that I found out! It's a secret!" The Hat chuckled, but before it could say anything, it started being pulled off of Harry's head. Harry grabbed the Hat's brim. "NO!" he yelled, gripping it and squeezing his eyes tight. "I _hafta_ be sorted, too!"

"Harry James Snape, you put that bloody hat down this instant!" Harry stilled at the sound of his Papa's voice, and cracked open one eye to see the whole Great Hall staring at him while he held onto the Hat for dear life while his Papa tried to pry it off of him.

"But I _wanna_ to be Sorted too, Papa . . . all the _other_ kids were." Harry whispered and this time when he aimed the puppy eyes at Severus, there were tears beginning to form. Severus sighed but gentled his tone and voice.

His Papa sighed and gripped Harry's fingers, prying them away gently, but firmly. "Harry you're still too young and have much to learn before it is your time to be Sorted, you must wait until you are eleven years old, _understood_?"

"Yes, Papa, I understand . . . " That didn't mean he wouldn't stop _trying_ to be sorted though . . . and right before it left his head, he heard the amused laughter of the Hat.

**Bloop**

"Harry! Harry, get up! It's time for breakfast! Best you wake up, if you wish to eat."

Harry shot up in bed and looked around wildly, his eyes finally settling on his Papa's silhouette. "P'pa?" he murmured sleepily, rubbing his eye. "W's go'n on . . . "

"Get dressed and out of bed, lad, and be quick about it. It's almost time for breakfast, and I have a class with the Gryffindors first thing. You will be with Minerva until lunch – I won't have a poor potion blowing up and covering you with Merlin knows what. You could be injured and I won't risk it."

Not quite understanding what Papa was talking about, Harry nodded and toddled off of his bed, grabbed the clothes at the end of his bed, and started pulling on his pants, like a big boy. Until his Papa took the shirt he had picked up from his hands, turned it right side out and gave it back to him while making sure he put the front in the front.

**Bloop**

Harry watched the kitty cat on his new Granna's desk in interest. His Papa had dropped him off, and said that Granna Minnie was inside . . . he sighed and went over to the nice kitty. He should've known that Granna wouldn't want to spend a bunch of time with him. He smiled slightly when the kitty cat purred as he stroked it's ear. "Hi , pretty kitty," he whispered. The kitty purred more.

When did class start? He wished he knew how to tell time. "D'you know wha' time i' is, Kitty Cat?"

The kitty Looked at him.

"I dinna think so . . . ." He was starting to pick up Granna's accent and dialect.

Ten minutes later, Harry came up with the most wonderful, funniest idea ever. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," he giggled happily as he made his way up to the desk from the table he was sitting at. The sleeping kitty opened one eye before putting it's paw over it's head again.

Harry smiled and reached for the shiny pretty kitty tail.

"MREEEEEOOOOOOWWRR!"

"_**Harry!" **_

"I's sowwy, Granna Minnie!"

**Bloop**

Harry watched in interest as Granna Minnie taught her Second Year Slytherins and Ravenclaws how to turn an animal into a water goblet.

"Now," Granna said, shaking back her sleeve a little bit, "On the count of three, you will tap your animal t_hree times_" with your wand and say 'Fera Verto,' like so; One, Two, _Three,_ Fera Verto. Now you."

Harry smiled as he saw animals of all sorts get changed into things to drink from, his eyes widening.

Would he be able to do that someday, he wondered? He hoped so. But he wanted to do it NOW . . . But he didn't have a wand. Maybe he could make one? But how would he figure it out? Sighing, Harry snuggled further into his chair and doodled with the pencil his Granna had given him after he pulled her kitty tail, 'to keep him busy.'

As the class left, Harry watched his Granna put her wand down and straighten everything up, muttering about why Albus was putting Slytherin and Gryffindor Fifth Years in one class . . . Who was Albus? He decided it was her kitty form. After all, she was the teacher, so shouldn't she decide who was in her class? His Daddy didn't let 'damn imbeciles' in his, after all.

When Granna went into the back room for more chalk, Harry decided to help. He grabbed her wand and waved it at the desks, wanting them to be clean.

Minerva came in at the sound of an explosion to find Harry huddled under the last still standing table, her wand clutched in the hand covering his head.

"Oh dear, he hasn't had basic wand education, has he?" She murmured in consternation.

**Bloop**

It was almost lunch time, and Harry's tummy growled while he sat on one of Hagrid's Thessy-ter-alls. Mister Hagrid had said that not everyone could see the pretty dragon-horses, because not everyone had seen someone die. When Harry asked Hagrid why he, Harry, could see them, Hagrid got a very sad look on his face.

"Mista Hag'id? Wha's dat?" Harry asked, pointing at the pretty furry thing that Hagrid was feeding from the palm of his hand.

"Why, tha'? Tha's a Bowtruckle. They live in wand trees, yeh see, an' eat insects, but like fairy eggs, when they c'n get 'em."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Errr . . . Hag'id?"

"Yes, 'Arry?"

"C'n . . . C'n I fee' da Bowz-tuckle?"

"Bowtruckle, and of course yeh can, lad."

Harry smiled brightly and began feeding the little woody creature the wood lice that Mister Hagrid had set out. By the time Mister Hagrid said that it was time to g to lunch, Harry had worked up the nerve to ask the very, very , very big man something. "Erm. Uhm. Mista Hag;id? An' . . . An' c'n I show him ta my Papa?"

Mister Hagrid smiled and nodded. "I ha' somemat better than that fer ya ta take home, 'Arry. Gotcha yer very own cat cub. Member I show'd ye how ta concentra'te on yer magic when we call tha Unicorn's this mornin'?"

"Yessr."

"Well, ye jest do that and concentrate on this lil fella real hard. He'll bond ta ya good and proper and nobody'll ever be able to break the bond." Hagrid smiled happily down at the child. "Every boy needs a pet an' every wizard boy needs a proper Familiar: This little guy will grow ta be both. He's half kneazle and half leopard, took one of yer pa's best cross-breedin' potions to get it done and I figure he'd want his lil boy ta bond with the best of the litter, so you go right on ahead and claim him, young 'Arry."

By the time Harry got back to the castle and Severus found out just exactly what his son had soul-bonded to, it was far, far too late.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Severus Snape stared in growing dread at the image of his son as his boy lugged a kitten that was nearly as big as he was toward the High Table. "Papa, lookit what Mr. Hagrid gived me! His name is Fuddle!"

"He_ what_? What in Merlin's name is that thing!"

"He's a Leozle, Papa! Part leopard an' part kn-kn-kneazlie, that's real smart, huh?" Harry chirped, bouncing in excitement. "Hagrid says he used that potion you gave him to cross-breed the litter and you'd want me to have the very _bestest_ best one."

Dear Merlin, _save_ him from well meaning, interfering _gamekeepers _. . .

...

Minerva looked up from her talk with Filius to see one Hogwarts Potions Master almost foaming at the mouth, followed by Harry carrying what looked to be a very large cat, or quite a small leopard. She made to ask what the cat was, and why her colleague was in such a terrible temper, even for him, when Harry answered that for her.

"Hi Granna! Hi Uncie Fil'us! Lookit my new kitty! Hagrid gave him to me!"

Severus made a sort of growling noise at the back of his throat. The 'kitty' turned his head to look at the man, his message very clear. 'What a _whiner_...'

Minerva decided that she rather liked that cat, watching Filius show Harry how to make a cat toy, very similar to how one made Christmas ornaments bubble from the end of their wand.

Oh, speaking of Christmas, she still needed to get Severus that shampoo. And maybe some for Harry's new cat, as well.

...

Harry carried Fuddle in front of him, happily smiling at the Professors. He knew it was a teacher-only meeting, but he wanted to introduce them to his kitty, and that was _definitely_ more important than some silly, icky students! This was a _kitty!_ "Hello Mister and Missus Perfessors, I'm Harry and this is my kitty-Leozle. His name is Fuddle!"

The rather . . . _large _. . . . . cat meowed loudly, before hopping down, knocking Harry over in the process. Seeing this, Fuddle apparently decided that his human was a good napping place, and proceeded to sit on the small boy's stomach, nearly covering the giggling child completely.

Professor Kettleburn dropped his water goblet with a _clang._

...

"I can't help you, Severus. Who am I, after all, to deny the boy happiness?"

Severus Snape was not a happy man. It had been two weeks, and that _thing_ of Hagrid's had ruined his furniture, _drank_ his potions without the simplest of side-effects, had _piddled_ all over, and it was just driving him half mad. While in general, he found cats far preferable to dogs, he would much prefer a Cerberus to that _thing._ So now he was in the Headmaster's office, trying – apparently in vain – to convince the man to help him make Harry to get rid of the menace.

"_Harry_ is four, Albus. A piece of _string_ makes him happy. I want that cat _gone._ Now tell me how, or the beast will be under the pumpkin patch come morning!_"_

Albus looked over his half-moon glasses at the former Death Eater. "I very much doubt that, Severus my boy. You see, Fuddle is as much a part of Harry as his own heart. To take away, or to bring harm to him would bring just as much harm to Harry and vice versa. It is as if Harry's own soul walks beside him. Haven't you ever had a pet?"

"Then he can get a toad, or an owl, or a _normal_ cat!"

The defeater of Grindelwald held up a hand, stopping Severus mid-rant. "It is both that fundamental and that simple, Severus. Fuddle loves Harry and Harry loves Fuddle. He and Harry are inseparably linked, and we have no right to intrude on such a precious thing as that. And really, my boy, would you truly be willing to cause your son such unhappiness by taking away his friend?"

Severus had only two words to say to that. _"Damn it."_

...

_"A A A A H H H H H H H !"_

Nadine Derwent blinked and turned from the vanity mirror to look at her room-mate. "Cassandra, who was that screaming?"

The blonde Selwyn frowned. "I don't know. It sounded like my Uncle Dagworth when Auntie Serina hit hit with a bat-bogey hex to the groin, though. Maybe it's one of the boys?"

"Hmm. Which one?"

"Xavier Odgen?"

"No, he screams like a little girl."

"Who then, all-knowing Cassandra?"

"Errm . . . Snape."

Nadine laughed. "As if, Cassie. Now where did Nicola put the hair-straightening potion?"

...

Harry looked at his Papa with big eyes round as saucers. Why was he holding ice to his groin? And glaring at Fuddle? Harry frowned at the large, dark orange Leozle. "Fuddle, what do you think has Papa so unhappy?"

"Mreowrrrr." The nearly black cat replied.

"Oh. Okay. You wanna play ball?" The Leozle just put it's head in it's owner's lap and cleaned it's paws.

"Okay. Erm, Papa, why are you glaring at Fuddle?"

Something told Harry that this would be a very weird day.

...

Harry was thinking as his Papa led him to the hospital wing. He still didn't know what happened, though. Maybe a big kid could tell him. Nodding to himself, Harry silently snuck off to look for a student.

"What're you doing, midget?"

Harry jumped in surprise, before relaxing. It was only Dorian Allen, a Gryffindor that had detention with Papa a lot. "Hullo, Dorian. Can you help me?" Maybe if he was polite, Dorian'd help him.

"Er, sure. What's it?"

"My Papa's holdin' ice inbetween his legs and goin' to the hospital wing. I asked him why, but he just glared at my kitty, Fuddle, and muttered bout claws. Did a Ravenclaw hex him?"

Dorian looked like he was trying not to laugh. "No, I don't think so kid. I think he's mad at your cat." At that, the sixth year burst out laughing and walked away, leaving Harry frowning, arms crossed, in the middle of the corridor.

"But he's _always_ mad at Fuddle! Dor-i-a-an!"

When he received no answer, Harry kicked the stone floor. "Well that's no help!"

...

Snape stared at the wreckage of his lab. The confounded cat had poked it's overly inquisitive nose into everything and there were instruments and ingredients scattered or shattered all over the place. He snarled. "BLASTED CAT!"

CLANG! One last cauldron hit the floor as it lost it's fight with gravity.

"REEEOOOOWWRRRR!" The startled feline complained.

"_Dear Merlin _. . . "

"Fawcett, Fudge, do the universe a favour and _shut-_"

_BOP_. The one, the last, until _now,_ unbroken glass bottle fell off the shelf above Snape and hit the man on his head with a thump, before shattering on the ground.

" _. . . UP."_

And thus the Potions Master ended class early that day, a rarity indeed.

...

Harry watched his Papa with interest. It was a Monday, and he got to sit in on his papa's class for the first time, only because there wasn't anyone else to watch him, but, still. He wondered why the Hufflepuffs were so scared. After all, it's not like his papa was Uncle Vernon or something. How did Granna say it? 'All bark and no biting'? Something like that, anyway. It fit his Papa to a 'T'.

"_A a a a a a a a a a a e e e e e e e e e i i i !"_

_"Look OUT!"_

Harry stiffened at one of the Slytherin girl's panicking shrieks and the warning cry from her horrified partner and jumped down from the stool he had been put on, to hide behind his papa's desk.

"_**Idiot girl!"**_ His papa shouted, just before the botched potion in the girl's cauldron exploded, drenching his papa from head to toe.

Harry got up to look as soon as the wet noises stopped...then climbed up to stand on his stool behind the desk to get a better look. Cocking his head to the side, he asked loudly, "Papa, why is your hair red like the insuff'able Weasley brats?"

Why were the big kids laughing? And why did his Papa put his head in his hands?

"Papa?" He got down and slowly edged closer, "Papa, you okay? _Paaa-paaaa?_"

…...

"Red hair, blue skin, purple lips, several burns and scalds, what looks like fur growing from your nostrils and your knuckles..." Pomphrey paused, "Severus Snape what HAVE you been brewing?"

Her tone didn't bode well for his immediate future.

…...

Harry grinned excitedly at his Papa; it was the weekend they were going to see Anne! . . . Well, her and Grandma Snape. But she smelled funny; Anne gave him cookies when Papa wasn't watching.

"Is your book bag packed, Harry?"

"Yes, Papa! C'mon! We're gonna be la-a-a-a-_ate!_" Harry babbled, hopping up and down as they made their way to their rooms to use the Floo.

Severus muttered something about a rabbit in 'unnerhand.' Harry scrunched his eyebrows, confused.

"Papa, what's 'Unnerhand'? And why's it got a rabbit?'"

Severus gave his adoptive son an amused smirk. "Wonderland, Harry. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, to be exact. It's a book Grandmother read to me when I was your age. It's about a young girl named Alice, who follows a white rabbit down a hole, and...well, you'll have to ask her."

"Why'd she do that? I's just _silly!_"

"It is rude to interrupt, Harry. Why don't we just wait and ask Grandmother about the book later – she might still have it."

"Yeah! I wanna read the Wondey-land book!"

"It's Wonderland, Harry, and you say 'want to,' not 'wanna.'"

"Yes, Papa. I'm sorry . . . "

"No you aren't, you incorrigible little brat."

"Nope!"

Severus sighed. "Minerva is rubbing off on you . . . "

"YAY!" Harry clapped.

It was going to be a _long_ day . . . Severus wondered how long Anne would last before she cracked . . . .

"Papa? When you and Anne getting married?"

Snape just stared at Harry. "Dear Merlin, boy...not you too?"

**I didn't like how I did the chapter before . . . Took out the life-bond to Fuddle because it's just to much of a super!Harry bit for my tastes. Hope you still like it.**

**Mercy. June 11, 2011 CE**


	7. Chapter 7

March 2, 1986

"PAPA! PAPA-A!"

Severus Snape _ran_ to his child's room, his eyes wild with worry. Harry screamed again, and the Potions Master flung open the door, rushing to his child's bed.

"Harry, what's wrong? Harry?" The man pulled back the covers, then dropped them in shock. Harry's hair . . . He brushed the now-russet locks back and shook the five-year-old awake. Harry's eye's flew open, and he gripped at his father.

"Daddy, I hurt . . . " he whimpered, his voice high.

Severus held his son close, rubbing his back and murmuring in his ear that it would be alright.

Soon, Harry fell asleep again, but Severus stayed next to him, eventually nodding off himself, his head resting surprisingly comfortably on the edge of his son's night stand.

"**PAPA!**"

Severus Snape jerked awake at the high-pitched squeal. Shaking himself, he pulled himself up and staggered over to the bathroom, where he had heard the noise. When he opened the door, he was very surprised.

"Papa, what _happened?_" Harry asked him.

All Severus could do was stare. His son . . . did not look particularly like a son at the moment. His face was softer, more like Lily's, and his eyes were wider, his lashes longer. The child's hair was bright, shocking ruby red, like his mother's had been.

"Daddy!" Harry wailed. "What happened! I'm a _girl!_ Look!"

Severus stared in shock, trying to comprehend this new development. Then, he did the only thing he could do.

The man fainted.

Three days later, Severus finally figured out what had happened. He personally blamed Albus. _He_ had suggested the Blood Magic to Lily. _He_ had changed Harry's appearance to be more like James' after the Potters died, 'because if the boy didn't look like his father the Purebloods might not recognise him as their saviour.' Idiot man! And now, now that the Blood Wards _Albus_ made from Lily's shielding charm, were defunct, they turned his son into a girl!

'Didn't realise the possible effects,' his foot. That ward breaking early had switched his child's gender, and that 'possible side-effect of premature dissipation of a Blood Ward' was written directly in front of him, in _'The Big Book of Blood Wards.'_ The Wizarding World's leading reference on the damn things, written in 1965, by _A. P. W. B. Dumbledore._

Severus sighed and rubbed his eyes.

And he had no idea how to fix it. Time to tell Harry . . .

Hopefully he'd live to morning.

September 1, 1986

Violet Lily, formerly Harry James, Potter glared down at her bright red school gymslip. She was starting school at Sir Joseph's Institute for the Gifted, Anne's old primary school, and not at all happy about it. "Why do I have to go here, Papa?" she asked again.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Because no child of mine will be an uneducated idiot." He was careful to say child and not son, or daughter. Violet hated being reminded that she was female.

The diminutive redhead scowled at him. "I still don't see why I can't be home-schooled," she muttered, scuffing the pavement with her shoes.

Snape didn't deign that with a response; they'd had this argument often. "Come along, Violet. We need to find out where your classroom is," he told her, pulling her along up the steps and through the doors of the large city building.

Severus quickly menaced the simpering twit at the table in front of the main office to tell him where his daughter's classroom was, and within ten minutes was _very_ happy to be out of the noisy, over-crowded main hall and in the comparatively tomb-silent classroom. The Potions Master left soon after, stating to Violet that she would socialise or deal with the consequences.

Clever child she was, Violet chose to find someone that looked interesting enough to talk to. Little did she expect someone to do the same to her.

"'Scuse me," a girl with crinkly rust-red hair said, tapping Violet on the shoulder.

Violet blinked at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm bored. You want to be friends?"

Violet looked her up and down. The girl's hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, with strands of hair feathering down in front of her face, and she had big, dark eyes. She was pale, too, like she didn't go outside much. The former boy shrugged. "Okay."

The other girl smiled. "Good. My name's Melody Rivers. Who are you?"

"Harry – Er, Violet Potter."

Melody laughed. "Well then, hello Harrier Violet Potter."

"No, my name's Violet, I just used to be called Harry."

Melody stared. "Why?"

"I got adopted and my name changed," Violet answered, using the lie Anne had suggested in case she messed up in her name. It was true, after all. She was adopted, and now she had a different name. It just wasn't because of her adoption . . . "I'm still not used to it. Sorry."

Melody shrugged. "That's fine. You want to go play with the paints? My cousin Toby's in this class too, and he _hates _getting messy; we can cover him in the paint water and call it an accident."

Violet burst out laughing. "Let's!"

Severus Snape slammed yet another book on the table in front of him.

"Please," he muttered, "whatever imbecilic deity is listening, let this one be useful."

There _had_ to be a way to get his son back to being his _son_. He was going to find it.

And he'd kill Albus when he was done.

Meanwhile, Anne Blythe frowned from across the room at her . . . Sev. He was working himself to the bone over this. She knew it was important, and she couldn't begin to imagine what poor Harry – Violet – was going through, but she worried for the child's father.

Her mind made up, the red-haired woman walked over to the wizard and grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the flat and down the stairs to the park across the street.

"Anne what are you doing! I need to –"

Anne turned to glare at the man. "Sev, you're no use to Harry dead, and that's what'll happen if you don't take care of yourself. You don't spend any time near the poor child, and where does that leave hi–her? Tell me that, because I'd _love_ to know." She paused for a moment, before continuing, "Exactly. Now, I haven't the foggiest when you last ate, so we are going to get hotdogs from the vendor over there, and you will stay out here for an hour at least, and then we are picking H–Violet up from school, got it?"

Severus Snape nodded sourly. His scowl only deepened when Anne patted him on the head like a puppy and dragged him to get food.

A few days later, Violet and Melody were laughing as they stumbled through the door to Anne's flat.

"Hello, Violet," Anne greeted, looking up from behind her book. "Who's this?"

Melody smiled politely. "I'm Melody. Are you Violet's mummy?"

"Melody!" Violet squealed. "She is not! She's –"

"I'm Anne, a friend of Violet's dad," Anne interrupted. She turned to Violet. "Severus had to go back to school; something came up with a prank in his office. Chemicals were everywhere, and since he's the only one that knew quite what all he had stored there . . . " Anne trailed off and shrugged, feeling guilty when she saw the morose expression on Violet's face. "There's some chocolate milk and biscuits in the kitchen if you get hungry," she offered, trying to get a smile by mentioning the child's favourite snack.

It worked a _little_.

As the two children scrambled into the kitchen, Anne called out, "Leave the Jelly Babies alone!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" the two children chorused.

Anne smiled to herself and shook her head, turning a page in her book. "They're not going to leave them alone," she muttered to herself,. "Probably already hid them under the bed."

Violet bit her lip nervously as she watched her friend look around her room.

"So, what do you think?"

Melody turned to look at Violet and grinned. "I love it."

The Former-Boy Who Lived sighed in relief. She knew her room at Anne's was boyish, and she wouldn't have it any other way, but she had been scared that her new friend would tease her abut it.

"You wanna play in my toy TARDIS?"

Melody nodded excitedly and dove into the blue fabric playhouse, giggling madly.

"I get to be the Doctor!" Violet laughed. Melody pouted.

Yes, this was a good day.

"Right, everyone, today we're going to be reading The Twits, by Ronald Dahl. Come up here and get a copy off the table."

It was nearly halfway through the schoolyear, and Mrs. Roberts, the substitute teacher while Mrs. Allen was on maternity leave, had decided that the class should start reading a book a mere week before the Christmas Holidays.

Needless to say, the children were _not_ jumping up and down with happiness at this development.

"I thought that you were supposed to make Christmas ornaments and things before the hols," Violet muttered to Melody, who shrugged.

"No-body ever said Mrs. Roberts was a good teacher; I think she just likes seeing us complain."

"She's so mean!"

Violet heard a tutting noise from her right, and smiled sheepishly when she realised she'd said that right in front of her teacher. Oops . . .

"Miss Potter, I'd like to see you and your father today after school," Mrs. Roberts announced sourly.

"Yes, Ma'am," Violet muttered, grabbing a book and scuttling away.

Her and her big old mouth.

Later that day, Violet was sitting in the back of the classroom as her father reamed into her teacher for calling her a 'disgraceful brat' and 'a terrible influence'.

As the two adults looked back at her, Violet ducked her head and bit back a giggle.

Maybe she ought to get in trouble more often . . .

Violet stared at the strange dish on her plate. It was brown and stiff and mushy all at once, and she wasn't quite sure what was in it.

Shrugging, she picked up a forkful. She'd seen worse-looking things in her father's apartment.

She stared at the forkful for a moment, trying to discern what it was while Anne and her father talked across the table. No, no good. She had no idea what it was. She began to lift the mush up to her mouth when it slid off her fork with a low splat. Gross . . .

Cool!

The child eagerly scooped up another forkful and stuffed it in her mouth. She chewed for a moment.

She chewed again.

Oh, gods above and demons below, this was worse than when her Papa had gotten it into his head to make her eat squid tentacles. She didn't care if they had a fancy name – they tasted yucky!

Violet grabbed her glass of milk and began to gulp it down, but halfway through she felt herself turn green.

Oh, she was _never_ eating this again, and it may very well have ruined milk for her.

She looked around at the adults, and saw that they weren't paying any attention to her. Quick as a wink, she leaned over and spat the now-liquid goo onto the carpet. Oh, foul . . .

Not a few minutes later, Anne turned to Severus and mentioned idly, "Sev, luv, do you think you could look at that spot on the carpet under the table later? It keeps growing and I don't have a clue what it is."

Violet chose that moment to pipe up, "May I be excused? Like, right now?"

She was _so_ never trying her Papa's cooking again. This happened every time!

At the writing desk in her room at Anne's, Violet Potter bit the tip of her pencil and looked first at her paper, then at her favourite toy in the world – her Doctor Who-Bear. She got up and padded over to him, hugging him close. "Hello, Doctor," she said quietly. "What do you think I should do? Last time I wrote to Santa I asked for a family, and now I have one." The little child pulled on the fluffy white toy's scarf and continued, "Do you think I should thank him? Does Santa ever want to get thanked?" She paused and looked at the stuffed bear, then nodded. "You're right. Even if it isn't normal, I should do it. He gave me my wish, even if it was late."

And with that, little Violet Potter picked up her Doctor Who-Bear, sat at her desk, and began to write.

_Dear Mister Santa Claus,  
_

_My name is Violet Lily Potter, and this is my second  
writing to you. I've changed a lot since then. I have a Papa,  
and have magic, and live with Miss Anne to go to school in  
Kingston-Upon-Thames. I get to watch the telly, and eat  
Jelly Babies. I like 'Doctor Who' and 'The Bad News Bears'  
best. I have a firend named Melody. My hair is red now, but  
my eyes are the same._

_Oh, and I'm a girl, now, too._

_It's Headmaster Albuses fault._

_I want to thank you for answring my wish last time I wrote  
to you. It must not have been an easy one, sinse you had to  
work so long to do it. But you did. You made me be rescued  
from the Dursleys, and now I have a family._

_I don't know what I should ask for now.  
_

_I think my Doctor Who-Bear would like his own TARDIS,  
if you have one. Not one like the real Doctor's. One he can  
play and sleep in. If it had a light on top to keep bad things  
away, it would be grate.  
_

_Santa, is your sleigh a TARDIS?  
_

_If you can't give me a TARDIS for Doctor Who-Bear, then  
I really like to play football and cricket. If I could have my  
own ball, or a bat, it would be grate, because I could play it  
with my firend Melody. No-one could take it away because  
we had to share.  
_

_I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Santa, and a Happy  
New Year._

_Love,_

_Violet Lily Potter.  
(The Girl Who Was A Boy)_

_(Harry James Potter)_

_(P.S. - If my Papa makes the cookies, I'll tell you in the note.  
He's a Potions Master, and he can't cook. I'll ask Granna  
to keep him busy so Anne can bake them. Or carrot cake. I  
like carrot cake.)_

Violet laughed and giggled as she and Melody ran around in the new snow in the park across the street. It was Christmas Eve day, and everything was . . . Perfect. Her best friend and her family had moved into the apartment right across from her the week before, it was snowing, and Christmas was tomorrow.

Everything was beautiful.

"Melody!" she shouted across the snow, "Let's make snowmen!"

The other red-head nodded eagerly, and soon the two set about to making a multitude of strange snow-beings.

"Violet, help!" Melody squealed.

Violet whirled around, worried, and broke down laughing when she saw what her friend had done. The other girl had set about making a giant snowman head, with it's mouth wide open to scare people. As she'd been putting in the icicle teeth, some of the loose snow in the mouth had fallen on her.

"You-you-you look like you're under it's _tongue!_" Violet giggled madly.

Melody sent her a baleful glare.

:"Your tree-stabbed snowman is squashed," she said sourly.

Violet turned, and blinked. Her snowman was fine. Curious, she walked over to where it and the cut-in-half snowman were, and tried to figure out how it looked wrong.

Next thing she knew, she was being tackled into the snow by her best friend.

Of course, this could lead nowhere else but an all-out snowball fight.

Two hours later, as it began to get dark, two little red-headed girls shivered inside Anne Blythe's apartment, clutching their mugs of tea for dear life.

"Now," the social worker said, grinning in amusement, "What are we _not_ going to do again, girls?"

"Hit you with snowballs," the two chorused. Anne nodded.

"And why is that?"

"We'll lose."

"Right. I'm glad we have an understanding. Now, Severus will be home all day tomorrow, so you might be able to get away with attacking him, if you're up to it."

"_Have a holly, jolly Christmas;_

_It's the best time of the year_

_I don't know if there'll snow_

_but have a cup of cheer!_"

Anne Blythe bit back a laugh as she watched her boyfriend, Severus Snape, sink down on the sofa and rub his temples.

The poor man really did need more Christmas spirit, not that he'd let you tell him so.

"You need more holiday cheer, Scrooge," she told him bluntly, handing him a mug of hot chocolate and a candy cane. The wizard's dark eyes glared balefully at her.

"I. Do. Not."

From less than two feet away, Violet burst out laughing.

Anne decided to humour him. "Of course you don't, darling," she said, stealing his candy cane from his drink. "How about we get to those presents now?"

Severus didn't give any real reaction, besides a small sigh, but Violet was jumping up and down in excitement, and began to drag the boxes out from under the tree.

"Papa first! Papa first!" she squealed, handing her father a clumsily-wrapped green-and-silver box.

Severus cracked a rare smile and took it from her, kissing his daughter on the cheek as he did so.

"Now what could be in here?" he asked her. Violet giggled, but didn't answer. Severus held the box up to his ear and shook it slightly, then frowned. "Are you sure I don't get a hint?" he smiled. Anne leaned into him, happy to watch the interaction between the two.

"Open it, Papa!" Violet finally demanded. Severus nodded in agreement, and carefully unwrapped the package. Anne looked up at him to get a better view of his face.

Shock.

Pure shock.

She waved a hand in front of his face. No reaction. She got off of him and looked to see what was inside.

"_'The Encyclopedia Magica: Potions Edition,'_" she read out loud. Okay . . . it was an encyclopedia set. Why was he surprised? It was a very good gift, she thought. Surprisingly practical, but nice.

"Papa?" Violet asked, biting her lower lip.

Severus set the box aside, and swept his daughter up into a hug. Pulling put of it, he asked seriously, "How did you get the money to pay for the complete edition of this? I know you didn't get it form my account; there wouldn't be enough there."

Violet grinned toothily. "I asked Granna to help me," she told him. "She took me to Gringotts, and we got the money from my vault."

Anne grabbed her Polaroid and snapped a picture of the look on her boyfriend's face.

Priceless.

Ooh, they could use this picture on their thank-you cards!

"Stor-y! Stor-y! Stor-y!" Violet and Melody chanted, bouncing up and down.

Severus sighed. "No, you don't need a story to go to sleep, so shoo!"

The girls ignored him, and if anything bean shouting louder. "Stor-y! Stor-y! Stor-y!"

The Potions Master turned to Anne, his eyes pleading. "Help. Me," he mouthed over the two six-year-old's heads.

"Stor-y! Stor-y! Stor-y!"

Anne grinned and shook her head.

Severus glowered. Redheads. He was surrounded by daft redheads.

"Stor-y! Stor-y! Stor-y!"

"_FINE!_"

"YAY!"

Red hair would be the death of him.

Melody and Violet giggled like mad as they raced up the stairs of their building. Finally! They were home from their first day back at school! Melody zipped into her apartment, and Violet slowed down.

At Christmas, Mister Albus and Granna had sent her her Leozle, Fuddle, from Hogwarts. She loved her companion, she did, but every time she walked through the front door, he'd pounced on her to say 'hello.' It was kind of annoying.

Okay, it was _really_ annoying.

Maybe if she stood to the side and opened the door with a pencil . . .

She grabbed one of her unshaprened ones from her bag and pushed the door, standing away from the opening. "I'm home!" she shouted, as she usually did. She cringed, sure Fuddle would pounce out onto nothing.

. . .

Fuddle?

Violet turned and poked her head over to look inside.

_WHAM._

Violet was sent flying as her stupidly large cat sent her flying.

"What do you do, wait until you see the whites of my eyes?" she snapped.

Fuddle was on his back, giving a cat's version of a laugh.

"Apparently, yes.

Fuddle kept laughing.

"Hey, Papa?"

Severus Snape glanced at his daughter from behind the _Daily Prophet_. "Yes?"

"You know what would make this building a _whole_ lot better?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"An _elevator._"

"It has an elevator, Violet."

"I meant one that _works_."

"Ask Anne about it."

"She said it's the landlord's job to get it fixed."

"So wait until he fixes it."

"It broke four months ago."

"Your point is?"

"I want you to fix it."

"Brilliant idea, Violet, I'll file it with your request for moving strips of carpet."

"Those are a good idea! They'd take me from my room to the kitchen and out the door without me even having to walk!"

"Mm . . . "

Violet pouted and left. Annoying, stinky, mean old Papa . . .

She tripped, and began to fall.

And fall.

And fall.

And _fall._

She came to a rest with her head on Anne's shoes. The fellow redhead smiled a little. "Oh, love, did you fall down the stairs again?"

"It's all Papa's fault! He won't fix the elevator!"

"Hey, Fuddle?"

The giant leozle lifted its head lazily. _Yes?_

"I have to draw my pet for homework. Stay still."

"Mrow."

Violet happily set about doodling her favourite animal in the world – Fuddle.

She destroyed three different papers before giving up. "I. Can't. Draw. Stupid. _Leozles!_" She glowered at the paper scraps around her, as if they were the ones at fault here.

Fuddle sniffed at one of the crayons, licked it and wrinkled his nose. _I don't like crayons. They don't have any taste to them._ Still, the great cat took one in his mouth and began drawing himself. Violet watched in fascination, quite pleased with how it was turning out.

"Ooh, draw a couple heads! On pikes! Then it looks like you just finished razing a village or something!"

"I swear, Headmaster Fowley, it didn't draw it! My cat did!"

By the looks of it, the headteacher didn't believe her at _all._

"I mean, honestly, do you think I could draw something _that_ good?"

By the looks of it, yes, he did.

Drat!

Violet sat in her best friend Melody's room, idly drawing valentines.

"Hey, Melody? What do you think I should put on Andy's card?" she asked, looking up at the other girl.

Melody paused in her own drawing, and thought for a moment. "Andy Warner or Andy Stein?"

"Andy Stein, the smelly one."

" . . . Well, it's gotta rhyme, so maybe 'Roses are red, violets are blue. You put gum in girls' hair, now why don't you shoo'?"

Violet nodded seriously. "And at the end it can say 'Valentine's day is not for dopes. Hopefully you'll be given soap.'"

The two friends giggled madly, and continued making lacy heart Valentines.

"Well, class, I want you to know that I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour," Mrs Roberts said, glaring over her glasses at Violet and Melody. "And no, you do not get to choose your buddy."

Nearly all the students groaned, and Melody and Violet glowered as they were paired up with Andy Stein and Samantha Bobbins, respectively. They were touring some museum in London, and it was going to be so _boring._

"You're not supposed to touch things," Violet half-heatedly told her 'buddy.' Samantha tossed back her long blonde hair and sneered at her.

"Like _you_ can do anything about it," scoffed. "I'll touch whatever I want to, so there."

Violet glared at her, but said nothing. Samantha was Mrs Roberts' favourite student; she'd never get in trouble, Violet was sure.

Melody wasn't having much luck with her partner, either. It seemed that Andy Stein hadn't taken a bath since long before Valentine's day, and was quite happy to lean on Melody to make sure she knew it.

"Can you get off, please?" Melody asked. Andy shook his head, and pulled a squashed bag of crisps from his pocket and began to chomp on them.

_Lovely,_ Melody thought. _Who eats garlic-flavoured crisps, anyway? Eurg . . . _

And so it went until lunch, when Melody and Violet quite literally ran to sit next to each other, ignoring their unhappy buddies to do so. Just another twenty minutes until lunch ended, and they'd be on the bus back to school, thank God.

Unfortunately, the bus broke down halfway there. Which meant that they all had to get out and buddy up again.

Drat!

Melody grabbed Violet's wrist as she began to trudge over to Samantha. "Violet," she whispered, ducking down a little so as not to be noticed by the teacher, "Let's just buddy together, okay?"

Well, Violet definitely wasn't going to complain about that! The two girls stayed in the back of the group and chatted and giggled to themselves as the teacher lead them all to a payphone so she could call the school about the bus. They never noticed themselves falling behind until the rest of the class was out of sight.

"Umm, Melody?" Violet cut in, looking around.

"Yeah?"

"Where did everyone go?"

Melody turned around, searching for a glimpse of the others, but didn't see anyone. She looked at Violet with wide eyes, scared. "I don't know. I don't even know where we are!"

Violet bit her lip. She wasn't sure either, but she knew they had to do _something_. They were supposed to be buddied up, and Mrs Roberts wouldn't notice they were gone until another bus came or something. She looked around, biting her lip. "Do you have money for a pay phone? We can try to find one, and if the class isn't there, we can use it."

Melody shook her head. "No, my mum gave me a lunch this morning, so I don't have any money."

Violet bit her lip harder. Oh, if only she could get her Papa . . .

That was it! Violet pulled Melody over to one of the many grown-ups on the street and asked him, "Excuse me, sir? What road is this?"

The man looked bewildered behind his thick glasses, but answered, "Great Newport Street . . . Why are you asking me this?"

Violet didn't answer him. "Which way is Charing Cross Road?"

The man pointed, and Violet dragged a very confused Melody behind her. This was good, this was very good. Now she just had to find where Any Amount of Books was, and she'd be able to find the Leaky Cauldron from there so she could Floo her Papa.

Thank _God_ he'd convinced Anne to install a Floo connection!

"Vio-let!" Melody cried as they ran down the street, "Where are we going?"

Violet thought or a moment before saying, "To a pub my Dad took me to, once. The owner knows him, so we can call him or Anne and they'll pick us up." Melody asked a few more questions, but Violet ignored them in favour of looking for the Leaky Cauldron.

. . . There! The former boy unceremoniously dragged her friend away from the bookshop to the admittedly dingy pub and straight up to Tom.

"Hello there, girls," Tome smiled. "What are two little witches like yourselves doing out all alone? Are you looking for your mum and dad?"

Melody opened her mouth to speak, but Violet elbowed her in the stomach. "Yes, please. Can I please call them?"

Tom nodded. "Got lost, did you? The Floo's right there, feel free to use it."

Violet grinned widely and ran over to the fireplace, a very confused Melody behind her.

"Vio-_let!_" Melody demanded, the minute they reached the Floo, "What's going on? Why are you using a fireplace to call your Dad and Anne?"

Violet shrugged guiltily. "Magic," she said. "It's a secret, though, so you can't say a word about it, okay? Otherwise your memory'll be wiped."

Melody's eyes were wide and big, and she nodded. Violet didn't like to scare her friend, but it was necessary if she didn't want her memories taken away. She grabbed a bit of Floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"The red mental ward" she said, muttering the Floo address. It had been Anne's idea, and she'd come up with it after hearing Severus moan abut being surrounded by crazy redheads. The fire flared green, and she stuck her head in. "Anne! Papa!" she called.

Almost instantly, she saw Anne crouch down to the floor, her eyes worried. "Violet? What's wrong? You' should be on your field trip!"

"Me and Melody got lost," Violet said honestly. She paused for a moment, and continued, "I told her I was going to call you or Papa." There. It was true, after all, she had told her friend that.

Anne nodded. "Alright, I'll get your father. Go get Melody and wait outside – where are you, anyway?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"Wait outside that, then."

Violet nodded, and pulled out of the fire. "They said to wait outside," she said, turning to the still-shocked Melody. "They think you don't know about magic, so come on! My Papa's coming, and if he asks, you think Anne told me that he was in town, okay?"

Melody nodded, her wide eyes staring around, now taking in the less-than-normal aspects of the Cauldron, like the dwarves singing drunkenly across the room, the hag feasting on what looked like raw meat, a few old witches in garish robes . . . .

Violet grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her outside. She would not have her friend's memory wiped because Melody got curious!

Severus Snape was most certainly an unhappy man. His expression was dour as he looked around the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, searching for his child and 'her' friend. The two were most certainly very lucky that he hadn't been in the middle of a class when Anne firecalled him. As it was, she hadn't been able to tell him a thing for at least five minutes while he . . . _fretted_.

Not seeing either girl, Severus swept out of the bar and into the Muggle street. Hopefully the girls hadn't gone too far . . .

"'-you can't disprove the facts; it's pure logic,' Zoe said, but the Doctor corrected her. 'Logic, my dear Zoe,' he said, 'merely enables one to be _wrong_ with authority.'"

Childish giggling filled the area, and Severus turned to see the two red-headed hooligans huddled behind a book display.

"Girls," he he said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Violet looked up in shock when she heard her Papa address her and her friend. She smiled.

"Papa!" she cried, luanching herself at him. He caught her with an '_oof!_' and held her close.

"Don't you ever stray like that again, Violet," he whispered angrily. "I shall not allow you to be lost over something as mundane as a school trip."

Violet nodded. She and Melody had gotten so scared, once they started waiting . . . It was why she started reciting her favourite Doctor Who episodes, even though Melody wasn't fond of them. Heck, it was why Melody even _listened._

She hugged her Papa again. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his coat.

Severus Snape hugged her, and motioned for the tearful Melody to do the same.

Silly girls.

Soon, it was summertime again, and time for Violet's birthday. She'd been a girl for nearly a year now, and most _certainly_ wasn't fond of it. She was used to it, true, but she didn't feel comfortable that way. It felt wrong. Still, she was usually able to push those thoughts and feelings away, though sometimes they crept up on her, when she didn't think about it. She found, to her dismay, that she had to really _want_ to remember what it felt like to be a boy. She had to try to recall it.

The small child didn't like what that might mean.

Still, July 31st passed without such unhappiness creeping up on her, and she enjoyed herself. Severus and Anne took Violet and Melody to a fair, where they rode the roundabout, had candy floss, and dared each other to see who could eat the most corn dogs.

Violet won.

And now she wanted another corn dog. Drat! That _had_ to happen just after they left.

It was a good day, nice and sunny, with a few white clouds in the blue sky. A perfect day. A very perfect birthday. When they got home, Violet was shocked to find a cake in the kitchen – she'd thought she'd just have her day at the fair. A cake, too? Her eyes lit up, and she smiled as she blew out the candles.

_I wish we would always be this happy,_ she thought.

Violet was almost certain she was dreaming when the presents were brought out. She had a new, soft pet bed for Fuddle, one he could actually fit in, with a round top that looked like a globe from Anne, a copy of _Matilda_ by Ronald Dahl from Melody, and a set of walking, talking tin soldiers from her Granna and Uncle Filius. The card had said she only had to turn the clockwork keys and she could start ordering them about like a general! Mister Albus (definitely not Granpa Albus, like she had once called him – he turned her into a girl! ) had sent her sherbet lemons, which were nice, but it all paled in comparison to her last present – to her Papa's.

It was wrapped simply, in dark green paper and a silver bow. Very Papa. Violet had thought it might be a chemistry set, or a basic potions kit, and was shocked when she instead found a thick leather bound book, green with gold embossed words. _'Baby Book.'_ She looked up at her father, then down at the book again. Was this her . . .

She opened the cover, and let out a soft sigh. Inside was a Muggle picture of her mother,smiling with glee. The caption read, _'First day pregnant!' _In the background, for the first time ever that she could remember, Violet saw her family's house at Godric's Hollow. She'd concentrate on that later. For now, Violet was just happy to drink in every detail of her mother, with her halo of dark red hair, bright green eyes, and wide, crooked smile – a smile because she found out that she was going to have Violet.

Violet felt her eyes well up, and turned to hug her Papa. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

A very, _very_ perfect birthday.

Years passes. Violet and Melody stayed close friends, somehow always ending up in the same class each year. Violet never stopped adoring Doctor Who, and Melody eventually came to like it, herself. They enjoyed playing with their accidental magic – they turned the Headmaster's toupee into a clown wig more than once, to his dismay – and were in art club after school. They had a small circle of friends they liked to play with at school, and tended to get into fights with another girl in their year, Martha Douglas. She was tall and blonde and surly. She always wore brand-new clothes and read magazines behind her schoolbooks. She also liked to tease Melody and Violet, and was rather dense, because she never backed off, not even when Melody turned her skin green and gave her hairy little warts, all over her face.

Violet wished she'd had a camera.

Her Papa and Anne got married when Violet was eight, and she and Melody were over the moon when they got to be flower girls. It was a small wedding, just Granna, Uncle Filius, Aunt 'Mona, Melody's parents, The Headmaster, and a few of Anne's friends, along with the grandmothers. Small, but nice. Violet thought it looked like a fairytale.

When Violet was nine, she and Melody stole her Papa's wand and fixed the elevator. Finally! They weren't _quite_ sure how they'd done it, but it was now a running elevator, so they didn't really mind.

It was April of 1990 before Severus Snape was able to turn his son back into, well, a _son._ By this time, Melody had let slip that she knew about magic, but hadn't been Obliviated – she was a witch, a Muggle-Born. Both children had been ecstatic at this, as they had worried about what would happen once they turned eleven and Hogwarts owls came calling. Violet was worried, naturally, about being a boy again; she'd been a girl half her life after all, but she wanted to go back to how she'd been. Back to being a 'him.'

So, it was with great trepidation that Violet – soon to be and formerly Harry – drank the only somewhat decent tasting potion in the world.

It tasted like peas.

At first nothing happened, but after a moment, Anne gave a soft 'oh' of surprise, and in the mirror, the Potter child could see red hair darkening, and felt her – him? – self turning back into a boy. It didn't hurt at all. Though, now that he thought about it, that might be the painkiller potions his father had made him drink.

Then, it was over. No bright flash of light, no searing pain, no nothing.

Just Harry, looking like Harry.

The little boy grinned and hugged his father and Anne. This was the greatest thing to ever happen in the world, he knew it. He looked between the two parents in his life and asked, "Can I go play with Melody now?"

As it turned out, Melody's parents were very accepting of the whole magic business – though, considering they'd put up with Melody for ten years, that wasn't surprising. They kept accidentally calling Harry Violet, and much to his annoyance, he kept on answering to it, but hopefully that'd fix itself with time. For now, all there was was to wait and live.

"PAPA!"

"MISTER SNAPE!"

"_LOOK WHAT WE GOT!_"

Severus Snape bit back a groan when two bouncing, evil little ten-year-olds ran into his and Anne's room.

"_What?_" he asked waspishly. The children, unaffected, grinned and held out two envelopes – with the Hogwarts seal. Of course, ot was August 31. Grumbling, Severus swept the covers over his head and lay back down. He'd deal with this when it wasn't Oh-Dear-Melrin-This-Is-Early in the morning.

He had perhaps three seconds of relative peace when he was tackled by children. Growling, he sent them away, saying he'd be out in a moment.

Then he went back to sleep.

Meanwhile, Harry and Melody laughed happily, as they ran around the kitchen making breakfast for themselves, stealing glances at each other and their letters every few seconds. The eggs and toast were soon done, and the two sat down at the round wooden table, quiet.

Harry looked furtively up at Melody.

Melody reached toward her letter, hand shaking.

Both children snatched their letters up in the same instant, and broke the wax seal, grinning as they read.

"Read them out together?" Harry asked. Melody nodded.

"Dear Mister Potter-Snape,"

"Dear Miss Rivers"

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begin on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 1. Yours sincerely, Minerva M McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

"YES!" Melody cheered, tunning around the table and sweeping Harry up into a hug. Soon the two were jumping in circles around the room, shouting, "WE'RE GO-ING TO HOG-WARTS! WE'RE GO-ING TO HOG-WARTS! WE'RE GO-ING TO HOG-WARTS! WE'RE GO-ING TO HOG-WARTS! WE'RE GO-ING TO HOG-WARTS! "

"I take it you were accepted," a sleepy Anne asked from the doorway. "Why is there yoghurt on the floor?"

"Mrow," Fuddle called from under the table.

"Bye Mum! Bye Dad! Bye Anne! Bye Severus!"

"Bye Papa! Bye Anne! Bye Mr. and Mrs. Rivers!"

Melody and Harry laughed as they hung out the window to their compartment and waved at their loved ones. The rain picked up speed, and soon, the two children were fully inside the train and laughing and joking around.

"Scale of one to ten – who's better? The Master or . . . The Rani?"

"The Rani. The Master's completely wonky."

"Chocolate Frogs or chocolate bars?"

"Eww, I hate Chocolate Frogs – candy shouldn't move!"

"Yellow or oran-"

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

At the sound of the Italian-accented voice, Harry and Melody looked up from their talk to see a tall, tan, beaming girl about their age with a mass of black curls held back in a headband from her face. She had very white teeth.

"It;s fine with me," Melody shrugged. "Har?"

"Cool. What's your name?" Harry asked the girl.

She smiled politely, nd held out a hand for Harry to shake. "Blaise Zabini. And you are?"

"Melody Rivers," Melody piped up.

Harry grinned at his exuberant best friend. "Harry Potter-Snape. Zabini . . . your Dad invented the Algernon Potion, right?" Harry remembered his Papa raving avout a genius Italian Potions Master creating some sort of temporary intelligence booster, and then naming after a Muggle book. He'd thought it was brilliant and funny. He wondered if this girl liked potions.

The girl, however, grimaced. "Step-dad. He took mother's name." She paused for a moment, and then her eyes went wide. "_You're Harry Potter!_" she said in shock. "You defeated that Dark Man – Voldenmorts!"

Melody burst out laughing, and Harry blushed crimson.

"Potter-Snape. My Papa adopted me when I was little. And his name was Voldemort, but I think it was my Mum's work. She was a fully-trained Rune and Charms Mistress."

The Italian girl nodded, her cheeks a little pink. "My apologies – I didn't know you were a first year, too. From the stories, I'd have thought you were a grown-up by now, off slaying dragons and going on adventures!"

Harry shook his head. "Nope! I'm not the Doctor, I just like watching his programme."

The girl tilted her head to the side. "Programme?" she asked. "Doctor who?"

Melody and Harry cracked up.

"That's the name of the show," a giggling Melody explained. "_Doctor Who._ The Doctor is an alien from the planet Gallifrey, and he has a TARDIS –"

"– Stand s for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," Harry Interrupted.

"Yes," Melody continued, shooting her friend a dirty look. "And he travels through, well, time ad space in it. No-one knows his name, and he just goes by 'the Doctor.'"

Blaise nodded. "So . . . this Doctor Who is like a Pensive episode?"

Melody looked confused, but Harry nodded. "Yep. You're Pureblood?"

Blaise nodded.

"I'm a half-blood, and Melody's Muggle-born. What House do you want to be in?"

Blaise tilted her head, thinking. "Umm . . . I think Hufflepuff or Slytherin. My Mama was in Slytherin, but I think that Hufflepuff sounds fun."

Harry nodded. "My Mum and Dad were in Gryffindor, and my Papa's Head of Slytherin House. I want to be there."

Melody decided to dd her two cents. "I'm sticking with Harry," she said resolutely. "Poor dear would be lost without me."

"HEY!"

Blaise and Melody laughed, while Harry pouted.

"I would not!"

"Oh, pur-_lease._ You got lost in the school building the last day of ter – walking from your locker to the cafeteria. They're right next to each other!"

"I made a wrong turn!"

"You were found on the roof."

"It was an accident!"

"You got lost!"

Harry slid down in his seat, realising he wan\sn't going to win this battle. Hmph. "They're horrible, aren't they, Doctor Who-Bear?" he asked,referring to his white stuffed toy on the seat beside him. "I thought so. Maybe we should se Fuddle on them."

_WHAP._

"Ow!"

"Now, bad Harry! Sit!"

"I'm not a dog!"

"Did I say you were? Now sit up straight and you can have a Chocolate Frog."

"Melody, quit i–"

There was a knock on the compartment door. Harry leaned open and opened it to see a round-faced, tearful boy. He looked vaguely familiar . . .

"Sorry," the boy said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When the three Slytherin hopefuls shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry encouraged. "Do you want some help looking?"

The boy gave a watery smile and nodded. He and Harry checked through a few compartments until they reached the end of the carriage, and a brown-haired girl offered to help as well, and suggested asking an older student if they could help. She was going into first year with Harry and the boy, so didn't know any more magic than they did.

As it turned out, Gwenog's cousin Adaryn was starting her fifth year, and knew a Summoning Charm.

"Alright, squirt," she said, pulling out her wand, "what's your toad's name?"

"T-trevor."

"Okay, then, _Accio Trevor the toad!_"

Harry squeaked when he was whapped in the back of the head by something cold and slimy.

"Trevor!" the round-faced boy cried, grabbing his pet. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Adaryn ruffled his hair. "Not a problem. Just do me a favour and watchout for my little sister Megan, She's starting this year, and I want to know she'll be alright. What are your names, by the way?"

"Hermione Granger," the brown haired girl said eagerly, sticking out a hand to shake.

The boy smiled shyly. "Neville Longbottom." So _that_ was why the boy looked so familiar! He was the spitting image of his mother, Harry's mum's best friend. There were loads of pictures of them in his picture album.

Harry stuck out his own hand cheerfully. "Harry Potter."

"Are you _really?_" Hermione asked.

Adaryn gave Harry a Look. "I already know _your_ name, goof. I've been at Hogwarts five years, remember?" She laughed and ruffled his hair, causing Harry to shout "Hey!"

Hermione squeaked. Harry chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck subconciously, blushing, Being well-known, he thought as the exuberant first year rattled of the – very well-remembered by him – list of books he was in, was definitely not something that he'd ever get used to.

The rest of the train ride passed without incident, for the most part, thought Harry did end up bumping into Draco Malfoy, who, as always, nattered on about Pureblood politics. Harry smiled tightly and nodded, then walked away, intent to get back to his compartment before Melody found his Jelly Baby stash.

She'd already gobbled up half of the decoy batch of Bertie Bottts Every Flavour Beans and was looking mildly ill when he came in.

"ME-_EL!_"

"Oops?" Melody grinned, and Harry rolled his eyes, snatching away his candy and laughing.

All to quickly, the skies began to turn dark, and Harry could see familiar mountains and forests under a deep violet-purple sky. The train seemed to be slowing down, too.

"Come on," he said to Blaise and Melody, "we need to get into out school robes."

"Alright," Melody agreed nonchalantly, grabbing her trunk and rummaging through it. "Ooh, drat, I think I packed them in the bottom . . . "

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. Melody would never change. Not that he'd want her to.

"Aren't you going to leave?" The question surprised Harry, who'd never had a problem with changing in front of others before. Then, blushing slightly, he realised that Blaise had been thinking more along the line of him leaving so the girls could change without being seen. Oops.

Before he could answer her, Melody asked, "Why should he? You jest have to put your robes over your normal clothes – _oh._ You don't wear Muggle clothes, do you?"

Maybe life _had_ been easier bas a girl . . .

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Great Hall burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished it's song. Harry glanced at Blaise and Melody and grinned.

Growing up in Hogwarts _definitely_ had its perks.

"_Harry!_" Melody whisper-shouted, "You had me thinking we'd wrestle a _troll!_"

Harry grinned. "Mel! It's tradition – every year I tell someone that, and every year, no first year knows what Sorts them Well, I do, but I live here half the time . . . "

Melody punched him in the arm. Hard. Blaise did the same on his right.

"_Ow!"_

The girls just stuck their tongues out at him. Meanies . . . He'd set Fuddle on him, once he found the lazy Leozle.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down on the stool. There was a moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.

Harry whooped and cheered along with the Slytherin table. He saw his Papa up at the Head Table clapping politely, and waved at him. He nodded.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy behind Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all?

What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train? After all, every year he'd snuck over and tried on the Hat, and it had refused to Sort him – what if it was because he _couldn't_ be placed?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool.

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville.

When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag," a very pretty girl with long braids.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"… , "Parkinson"… , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"… , then "Perks, Sally-Anne"… , and then, at last -

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult."

"Hullo, Hat!"

"Hush, boy – oh, you are a boy again, aren't you? Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you? Very caring, yes, but you don't trust easy. Still ot that a big fan of Dumbledore, eh?" the Hat laughed at that, and Harry glowered at the black cloth before his eyes.

"He made me a girl!"

"Yes, yes, poor wizardling. Slytherin would make you great, of that I'm sure . . . It's all here in your head. Hmm . . . Brave, true, but not overly so. You stand up for what you believe in, but don't go looking for adventure; you prefer to read or hear about it.

"Hmm, yes, from what I saw, you'd best be a . . . RAVENCLAW!" Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Ravenclaw table. He was so relieved to have been sorted, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Adaryn got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Hartley brothers yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Harry sat down opposite the Grey Lady, smiling timidly at her. For some reason, the ghostly woman always scared him, even when the other ghosts didn't. She patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water, as always happened when a ghost touched someone.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the years he'd lived at Hogwarts, even if he had been in the Muggle world half the time. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young young former Muggle Studies teacher. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. Harry wondered where he'd gotten it.

"Rivers, Melody!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Harry stood up on his chair and cheered wildly. Yes!

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Blaise, joined Hermione and Neville at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," was a pale, nervous-looking girl, and became a Ravenclaw with Harry. After her, a green-faced boy called "Weasley, Ron," became a Gryffindor. Harry saw the other Weasley children cheering wildly, and the one boy – Perry or something – shaking Ronald's hand pompously, and chuckled. Then it was Blaise's turn.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat called out, not a moment later.

Harry and Melody cheered, and Dumbldore stood up for the first welcoming speech.

He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The headmaster was acting even odder than usual. He'd probably just said it to confound everybody.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Melody asked him uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Harry replied with a laugh. "Of course he is, Mel! Completely insane! But he's supposed to be a genius, too, so no-one really minds, I suppose. Potatoes or sausage?"

Melody's mouth fell open.

The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. He knew Melody had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Harry never had understood why those were there; they bit your fingers. _Hard._

The two children eagerly piled some of the delicious food onto their plates. Just as Harry was spooning some mashed potatoes into his mouth, a scream erupted from the Gryffindor table, causing Melody to flinch and fling her peas at him. He laughed. Silly Gryffindors – Nick did this every year.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a sundae and some apple pie, the talk turned to their families.

"_I'm_ a Half-blood," Lisa Turpin was saying, somewhat snidely, to Mandy Brocklehurst. "You're a Muggle-born, right?"

Mandy nodded. "Yes; my parents were planning on sending me to Cheltenham Ladies' College, but Hogwarts seemed like the better option. I can always take summer classes."

The others nodded. "What about you?" Terry Boot asked, turning to Harry. "I'm the only one in my family that's magic. I'm from Greater Birmingham. Mum and Dad wanted to send me to boarding school anyway, so they didn't much mind sending me to Hogwarts. Dad was the most excited – even more than I was, really." He smiled.

Harry smiled back. "Well, I'm a Half-blood, and I spend my time between here and my Papa and step-mum's place. Me and Melody actually grew up together."

Terry cocked his head to the side. "You're Dad's a teacher?"

Harry nodded. "He's right up there," he said, pointing. The others all looked back at him, surprised.

"You don't look like him at _all_," Mandy said authoritatively.

"Do you take after your Mum?" Lisa Turpin asked.

Harry thought for a moment, trying to find a good way to answer the question without having to admit he'd been a girl for half his childhood.. "I used to, I even was ginger like she was for a while, but now I look a bit like both my birth parents – it's a bit scary, actually, taking after them both and not looking quite like either one."

The others all stared at him with varying degrees of confusion.

"I'm adopted," he clarified. "Harry Potter."

Oh fun, the predictable debate over if he was who he said he was. Joy.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Kevin Entwhistle laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" Melody muttered to Harry.

"I think so," Harry muttered back, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's strange, because he usually gives everyone a reason why they aren't allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous things, everyone knows that, but the third floor corridor? He didn't even tell the teachers about that, or else Papa would have told me."

"You're sure he would have told you?" Melody asked.

Harry flicked his eyes over to his dour-faced father, and nodded hesitantly. "Of course he would. I mean, I would hope so . . . Yeah, he'd tell me."

Dumbledore was speaking again. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Ravenclaw first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead now, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even tell the people in the portraits along the corridors off as whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt at a door halfway up a tower.

"Okay," Adaryn said, "this is the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. If you want to get in, you have to answer a riddle from the doorknocker. If you can't answer, you'll have to wait outside here until someone else comes and can answer it."

As if on cue, the eagle-head doorknocker cleared it throat and asked:

"_Hem, hem. What is it that you can keep after giving it to someone else?"_

"Anyone want to take a guess?" Adaryn asked the arranged firsties.

"A bet?" Michael Corner asked.

"_No,_" answered the doorknocker.

"A date?" Morag MacDougal answered nervously.

"_No,_" said the doorknocker, its musical voice sounding smug.

Melody jumped up and raised her hand, "Friendship!"

The doorknocker laughed. "_A very good answer, but not the one I'm looking for._"

Harry raised his own hand, hoping he was right. "Your word?"

The doorknocker , , , nodded. Strange . . . "_Indeed. You may enter._"

The Ravenclaw common room was one of the most airy rooms at Hogwarts, Harry was sure, as the Ravenclaw firt years all ooh-ed, and ah-ed at the sight.. It was a wide, circular room with a midnight blue carpet, arched windows hung with soft blue silks, and a domed ceiling painted with stars. There was an an excellent view of the surrounding mountains, and Harry was sure it must be spectacular in the daytime. The room was furnished with tables, chairs, and bookcases; and by the door leading up to the dormitories(Girls to the right, boys to the left), there was a tall statue of Rowena Ravenclaw made of white marble.

It was beautiful.

Adaryn led the girls into one dormitory, and the other prefect, Allen Carlisle, led the boys into the other. The Ravenclaws, apparently, buddied up in rooms, but since there was an odd number of boys this year, one of them would be by themselves, since the rules were very clear that there were to be no more than two people assigned to any one room. Harry went up to ask Terry if he could bunk with him, but he and Kevin were already packing up. The same with Michael and Anthony.

He really needed to learn how to move more quickly . . .

The dorm rooms were small, maybe ten feet by ten feet at the most, and had a bunk-bed on one wall, where to Harry's surprise, Fuddle was snoozing, and across from it a wall covered in an enormous empty bookshelf. Directly across from the door was a window and beside that, a desk and Harry's trunk.

Harry smiled. It was nice, even if he had been hoping to have roommates like there were in Slytherin.

Maybe next year?

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Hufflepuff at once, because he wasn't supposed to be a Ravenclaw, that no-one else would take him. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Hufflepuff; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully - and there was Martha Douglas, laughing at him as he struggled with it - then Martha turned into the newly-nervous Quirrell, whose laugh became high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

Fuddle watched his familiar nervously. Something was bad with him, something very extremely not good at all. He worried for the boy. Humans were so fragile, after all . . .

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the girl with the red hair."

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day with Melody. People passing by stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. It was really annoying, because he was _trying_ to show Melody around the castle before classes began on Monday. As it was, he was ready to give up, drag his poor confused best friend to the Slytherin Common Room, and bang on the door until someone got Blaise so they could get breakfast with her and see how she was liking Slytherin House.

Hogwarts Castle was already confusing enough for the people who lived there, what with literally over a hundred staircases(one hundred and forty-two, to be exact) and the doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all move around a lot, even the suits of armour.

Harry suddenly felt very, very sorry for his year-mates.

"Harry! Melody!"

The two children turned to see Blaise rushing to catch up with them, a smile on her face, and her hair flying out from under her Alice band.

"There you two are! I was beginning to think that you had jumped into the Lake!" she cried, panting a little bit. There was a pause, then, "I'm hungry."

Harry really, truly – _honestly_ – couldn't help it.

He burst out laughing.

Blaise looked affronted at first, and not at all happy when Melody joined in, but after a moment she chuckled, too.

"Yes, yes, let us all laugh at the starving Italian girl," she said in mock-seriousness. "Now come _on._ I have no idea where in the castle we are, and I want to _eat!_"

And so the three hurried, with Harry happily and deliberately leading the two girls along the most winding and inane path possible, through the castle to the Great Hall, reaching it barely ten minutes before breakfast ended. Blaise and Melody ate quickly, glaring at their oblivious friend.

It was the start, of course, of a beautiful friendship.

When classes began on Monday, Harry was beyond happy to find that he already knew most of it. He knew the plants in the greenhouse from working with Aunt Pomona when she needed a helper, and he already knew a lot of the theory behind Charms, since Uncle Filius liked to rant about it.

_A lot_.

Granna's pig-trick was a lot funnier when people didn't turn around to see who the laughing little kid was. Harry wondered if the students ever would catch on the the fact that most of her first class was scare tactics to make them behave, and some cool but easy tricks to make them all pay attention. Harry almost hoped someone would be late . . .

"Mister Finch-Fletchley, Mister MacMillan, if I may be so bold, what are you doing in my classroom?"

The two boys flushed red.

"I . . . "

"We . . . "

"You see . . . "

"No, Mister MacMillan, I do _not_ see."

"We got lost!" Justin shouted. Granna glared at him.

"Perhaps, then, Mister Finch-Fletchley, I ought to turn one of you into a map? Or perhaps a pocket watch? That way at least one of you will be on time?"

She flicked her wand, and both boys ducked. They hadn't needed to, though; she had just summoned a large map of the Transfiguration wing and an old mantle clock. Both dropped into the first-year boys' arms, making them stagger and fall.

"Now then, if there are no more interruptions . . . Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You ha ve been warned twice now, and will not be warned again."

Then Granna McGonagall set them all to taking a lot of complicated notes. When they finished, the students were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Harry and a Hufflepuff girl named Hannah had made any difference to their matches; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave the two a rare smile.

Melody elbowed Harry in the side. "You're teaching me that later!" she muttered. Harry nodded, and rubbed his sore shoulder.

"Do you always have to hit me in the same spot?"

Melody flashed him a toothy grin as the bell rang. "Well of course!"


	8. Letter to FFNet

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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blood enraged

arashiXnoXkami

Masane Amaha's King

Blueexorist

Nero Angelo Sparda

Sharkteeth

DAPC

Kyuubi16

bunji the wolf

EternalKnight219

Shi Kami The Murderous Prodigy

DeathNoteMaker

Nostalgic Remedy

Paco the Taco Maker

Slayer of Destiny

MisaPummelman

Houseofnightfan1

Serenity of the Lake

Tarnished Silver Things

If you could do what some other authors have done and post this petition as a temporary new chapter on some of your stories to help spreed the word? It would help a lot it's how I found out about this.

**FFNet's already removed one of my stories. I don't know why, and I think it's wrong. Passing it on. - M.**

**EDIT: FFNet, what the heck? I've been using this sight since 2008. Now I'm finding out that you're even deleting _accounts_? Without reading the stories flagged? Yeah, you're cracking down - good idea, you don'twant porn or something as a story cover. But - BUT - how about you READ the stories flagged? Or get some volunteers or hire a few people to go over it? People work hard on these stories. If they violate terms, fine, you're the mods. But give people a _chance_. Some warning helps. Second chances work even better.**

**I miss Livejournal.**


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